


(he was a man mourning tomorrow)

by Neelh



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bromalgamate, Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Gen, Post-Pacifist Route, Suicide, time is an illusion and meaning has no meaning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 14:28:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5747869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neelh/pseuds/Neelh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>there’s no turning away, there’s no locking himself in his room because he’s too tired to face the day. if there’s one failure, they’ll all pile up and he’ll be crushed under fear and love and sorrow.</p>
<p>he’s suffocating in this newness, in the unfamiliarity of the ceiling of his surface bedroom, in the knowledge that whatever he does is permanent, that there’s no more randomly pressed undo button on life.</p>
<p>he’s not ready for it. he’s not ready for the responsibility, for actually having to take care of people, to look both ways before crossing the street, he’s unprepared to ignore the words that burrow into his head every so often.</p>
<p>and sans doesn’t think that he can deal with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(he was a man mourning tomorrow)

1.

 

sometimes, sans remembers timelines.

it’s not normal for him, no way. he only knows that they exist because of his machine, his reports, his miraculous lab that keeps everything safe across timelines and other reality-bending issues. but sometimes he wakes up in a cold sweat, remembering seeing papyrus’s dust or knocking on the door for days on end with no reply or getting a vague text from alphys before taking a shortcut to her lab to find it empty.

sometimes that’s not the end, though. sometimes he remembers working in a high position under mettaton’s dictatorship, being an ear to the ground and the hand that can tear away a person’s life with little to no effort. sometimes he remembers sitting in the ruins with toriel and papyrus, eating snail pie and spaghetti and telling bad jokes, like a family. sometimes papyrus isn’t there, and sans feels heavy and hollow.

once, sans wakes up with the feeling that years have passed by in an underground ruled by papyrus. nobody tells the king when someone falls into the ruins, because nobody knows. sans was once a judge, and he had never forgotten how the system worked until he broke the barrier with seven souls he had deemed unworthy without ever letting them speak, when he realised that maybe his defence of papyrus, the mollycoddled king, had gone too far.

but king papyrus, and damn, that felt weird to say, he was good. he wasn’t the best at paperwork or mathematics, but his heart was bigger than the whole wide world. he always made an effort to understand, he always did his best, he never gave up.

sans wakes up in snowdin again, then goes right back to sleep.

 

 

 

2.

 

sans loves the surface, he thinks. the sun is so huge and bright and it reminds him so much of papyrus, of toriel, of undyne and alphys and frisk and asgore, those beautiful, wonderful people that smile at him and make him feel like he’s worth something sometimes.

but his mind, it reminds him of everything wrong. frisk, they’re a liability, they’re the anomaly. they’re determined, and that’s great if they’re on his side, which is the sans side, the “let’s never go back underground ever again ever, no more resets, nope, not for me” side. but if they’re not, he’ll have to go through everything again and he won’t know anything about it, save for maybe a few photographs of everyone together, smiling, framed in a drawer in his lab.

so he drags himself out of bed, out of the house, he follows the kid around their daily life like he’s done since those few days in the underground, where frisk learnt his every tick and tell while sans still couldn’t read them. he watches them smile at him over nice cream, signing the compliment on the stick to him. indeed, his eyes are stunning, and he cracks a joke about it.

but at night, when they are both tucked into bed in two different houses on the same little monster street, sans lies awake, remembering faded dreams of the past-future that never was.

 

 

 

3.

 

monsters are made of love and compassion and hope.

sans doesn’t know how he sticks together some days.

then there’s a terrible pun from toriel, or an enthusiastic monologue from papyrus, and sans finds the strength to make it through one more day.

 

 

 

4.

 

No more resets, frisk signs one day.

it’s not a particularly nice day outside. it’s raining a little, enough to make the air smell of moisture but not enough to bounce off the windows and make a grounding rattling sound. worms and slugs come out of the ground and grass, free to do whatever worms and slugs do. toriel has gone snail picking, so sans and papyrus are watching movies with frisk. papyrus is so absorbed in the lego movie that he doesn’t notice the silent conversation going on behind him. Frisk is curled up around a pillow, sans is nearly asleep, and it would be completely normal if not for those three little words.

No more resets, frisk signs.

the rain grows heavier, and sans closes his eyes to focus on the sound of tiny water droplets, having grown too heavy for the sky to hold them anymore, falling down to the earth, each one in a pointless descent towards a broad, indifferent ground. sans can’t differentiate between them. is that what the world is? is that all he is? is he supposed to care? because he doesn’t, not anymore.

frisk shifts next to him, taking his bony hand and tracing the letters over it repeatedly. nomoreresetsnomoreresetsnomoreresets-

he pulls his hand away, pushing it into his jacket pocket.

frisk probably goes back to watching the film as sans pretends to sleep, his mind racing.

no more resets, he should be happy, and he guesses he kind of is. there is still a weight on his chest, though, on his chest, on his shoulders, where his gut would be if he had one. try as he might, he can’t find the cause.

 

 

 

5.

 

he smiles, like always.

he has always smiled. well, not always, because he has seen dusty scarves buried in snow in his half-remembered dreams, and he has felt the phantom pain of being sliced right through his chest from his right shoulder to his left hipbone. but even then, he has pretended that everything’s okay, it’ll all be okay, he thinks. it will all be reset.

a clean slate, he supposes. thousands and thousands of clean slates, each erased for the slightest chalky smudge. he’s gonna mess this up, he thinks in between trips to grillby’s and naps in the weirdest places he can find. he’s gonna take the little chalk happily-ever-after that frisk so carefully printed out in pure, pure white, and he’s going to smear the words until he loses track of his metaphor.

if he’s that tired, he’s gotta sleep more, he thinks from the top of the clock tower before dropping back into another nap.

 

 

 

6.

 

papyrus isn’t an infant, he’s not a kid, he hasn’t been in a long time, and both he and sans are too perceptive for their own good.

papyrus can see that sans hasn’t seen the meaning in life for a while. sans knows that papyrus knows, and papyrus knows that sans would prefer for papyrus to be completely ignorant to his misery, even when he doesn’t come out of his room for days on end and then pretends that nothing’s wrong.

one time, papyrus tries to confront sans about it, even though the concept of it is very vague and very sad.

SANS, he says, WHY ARE YOU SO SAD?

sans grins back, makes a joke about how you’re reading too much into this, pappy, just relax, i’m fine, he says. his smile doesn’t reach his eyes, it never has, not since this all started at some vague point far in the past.

STOP TRYING TO DISTRACT ME, papyrus says, and sans can tell, he can always tell, papyrus is calm on the surface, calm and concerned. but he’s angry, too, though papyrus has expertly concealed it under his encouraging smile that never seems to go away, like some kind of boisterous skeleton fury ninja. there’s anger, and sorrow, and fear, and sans can’t pinpoint the origins of all of those emotions past himself, by being such a useless waste of space that his own brother, his baby bro, is sad.

and sans says that he isn’t, he isn’t trying to distract papyrus, papyrus is distracting himself, when the tall skeleton flops onto the sofa, making the cushions bounce a little under sans’s butt.

papyrus rubs an ungloved hand over his temple, leaning his elbow on the arm of the sofa. SANS, I LOVE YOU, AND I CARE ABOUT YOU, BUT YOU WON’T TELL ME WHAT’S WRONG. PLEASE, JUST TALK TO ME FOR ONCE.

he almost slips. he almost spills everything, about the dreamlike nightmares that were resets, of the vague knowledge of how everything was going to turn out, of frisk and their love and LOVE and power and the fact that nobody can understand their predicament, like nobody can understand sans’s, how sometimes he can’t even look at the kid without a horrific feeling of grief and disgust. he almost says that a memory that feels unreal can sometimes smother everything else in sans’s mind, he almost tells his secrets, shows all his metaphorical cards, but the words are trapped on his lips.

it would sound crazy.

he is crazy.

he goes to grillby’s.

 

 

 

0.7

 

papyrus is slumped in the corner of the throne room that used to be inhabited by asgore. sans tends to the flowers occasionally. they no longer thrive, but instead, they just. exist.

but papyrus is slumped in the corner of the throne room, crown flung across the room, staring hollowly into space. he’s curled up, like a child scared of the dark, like a jaded adult knowing that the shadows are just empty space.

sans watches, expressionless, as papyrus tells the opposite wall that he has failed as king, that he was a gullible fool who believed his only friends were on vacation and forgot about him, like people can just leave the underground. that sans has to do everything for him, like he’s still a little baby bones, that he still feels like a child, that he’s so sorry for being a burden.

papyrus calls himself a burden, calls himself a fraud, and sans is screaming in his head, because no, no pap, you’re the best person i know, you’re just going through some tough times, please papyrus, please, please don’t turn out like me.

a month later, he wakes up in his bedroom in snowdin with a mild feeling of relief.

 

 

 

8.

 

every word he exchanges with toriel, with papyrus, with alphys, it’s nearly a death sentence. one second starting a sentence too late or too early, one pun that falls flat, one stumble, one ill-timed hug, it could tell them all that something’s up, something worse, and then it won’t just be a mild fear of SANS, TALK TO ME PLEASE, it’ll be Sans, we’re here for you, I-i-t’ll be alright, I p-promise, SANS, DON’T GO, PLEASE, and there’s no escape.

there’s no turning away, there’s no locking himself in his room because he’s too tired to face the day, there’s no premonition of the old lady’ll like this joke, pap’s probably gonna be out for longer, i shouldn’t skip out on the ruins today. instead, everything is a stab, a step in the dark. if there’s one failure, they’ll all pile up and he’ll be crushed under fear and love and sorrow.

he’s suffocating in this newness, in the unfamiliarity of the ceiling of his surface bedroom, in the knowledge that whatever he does is permanent, that there’s no more randomly pressed undo button on life.

he’s not ready for it. he’s not ready for the responsibility, for actually having to take care of people, to look both ways before crossing the street, he’s unprepared to ignore the words that burrow into his head every so often.

and if he fucks up, papyrus is going to stare at the wall and tell sans that he has failed, that he’s useless, a burden, a fraud.

and sans doesn’t think that he can deal with that.

 

 

 

9.

 

sans leaves a note for papyrus on his bare bedroom door.

 

gonna be gone for a while, pap, love you, take care.

 

it’s vague, it’s terrible, it’s casual, and it’s all that sans can do.

he walks out the door and ends up underground, just outside his house in snowdin.

the silence is like a throbbing headache, visible vibrations of sound when the world is on mute. everything is still and far, far too much for him to bear.

there’s an eerie sensation of being watched, which sans has always been an expert at ignoring.

he trudges through the snow, letting his feet drag until his slippers fall off, remaining in a snowdrift. he can’t be bothered to put them back on, so he continues shuffling along, barefoot, his phalanxes numb and kind of damp.

there’s a long rock formation that papyrus painted over to look like wood, that he added rope to to make it more secure. sans remembers sitting to the side, drinking a bottle of ketchup and making sure that his brother didn’t fall off.

he takes a step onto it, barely feeling his foot touching the stone. another step, feeling as though he isn’t in his body, as though everything around him would ripple and dissipate if he touched it. another cautious step, feeling as though he is in a dream. another, another, another.

he ducks under the rope, sits down, and shuffles himself off the edge. his soul shatters before he hits the ground.

 

 

 

9.

 

he trudges through the snow, letting his feet drag until his slippers fall off, remaining in a snowdrift. he can’t be bothered to put them back on, so he continues shuffling along, barefoot, his phalanxes numb and kind of damp.

there’s a long rock formation that papyrus painted over to look like wood, that he added rope to to make it more secure. sans remembers sitting to the side, drinking a bottle of ketchup and making sure that his brother didn’t fall off.

he takes a step onto it, barely feeling his foot touching the stone. another step, feeling as though he isn’t in his body, as though everything around him would ripple and dissipate if he touched it. another cautious step, feeling as though he is in a dream. another, another, another, under the rope, onto the ledge

SANS. oh, hey pap. woah, hey, don’t… SHUSH. THIS IS A HUG. okay. ARE YOU ALRIGHT, BROTHER? yeah, sure, why? THE HUMAN TOLD ME TO COME AND GET YOU. THEY WERE WORRIED. I… CAN SEE WHY.

a pause.

ARE YOU SURE YOU’RE ALRIGHT?

and even though he doesn’t say it, sans can feel some kind of ache, some kind of pleading to PLEASE, LET’S PRETEND IT’S OKAY, TELL ME EVERYTHING.

sans wishes he had tipped himself off the bridge when he had the chance.

 

 

 

10.

 

the note is no longer on his bedroom door.

 

 

 

11.

 

people still speak to sans, but there’s a look that they all have in their eyes. they’re speaking, but they’re not communicating. toriel treats sans like glass, like one second starting a sentence too late or too early, one pun that falls flat, one stumble, one ill-timed hug, like it could kill sans. alphys sometimes stares, wondering if she misjudged him, if he was more like her than she realised.

and papyrus, papyrus knows that the thing that is wrong with his brother is worse than usual. sans can feel it in awkwardly long hugs, he can hear it in the lack of nagging to clean up, get dressed, get out of bed, and he tells himself that isn’t that what he wanted, for papyrus to stop worrying? but this isn’t not worrying, this is, this is some weird anxiety where papyrus just suddenly drops everything in some kind of fear that sans is just as fragile as his single HP would imply.

it just so happens that it’s kind of making it worse?

that’s okay though. he has time to get himself together now, to apply that fake grin until it reaches his eyes. fake it ‘til you make it, or die trying.

 

 

 

12.

 

okay, so he didn’t actually intend to die trying. the thing is, things turn out a lot differently than he expects sometimes, and he never really understood the concept of falling down until he woke up but didn’t. he just. stays there. kind of disassociating, but at the same time, he was just. there. existing, but slowly feeling himself disappear. like a shout echoing and slowly growing quieter, like a droplet of food colouring being thrown into the ocean and leaving no trace, like a man, like a man falling, falling and becoming undone, becoming nothing.

but he will not become nothing.

he will be remembered by your friends, by his brother, by that kid, that kid who would tear apart the world to save everyone and give up only when there was no other option. his death would mean several ends and several beginnings, several half-remembered dreams.

and he. he doesn’t. he can’t.

he no longer cares.

so he lies there, slowly allowing the feeling of apathy hollow out his bones and refill them with uncaring cement. because he doesn’t care, won’t care, can’t bring himself to care, he just can’t, okay papyrus, OKAY SANS, I’M JUST NOT UP TO THIS ANYMORE, PLEASE JUST LEAVE ME ALONE, no, pap, stop it, stop it, you’re great, you’re a great person, you’re the great papyrus, LEAVE IT, SANS!

SANS! SANS, WAKE UP! PLEASE!

silence.

UNDYNE, HELP, SANS ISN’T WAKING UP, HE’S JUST LYING THERE, HELP… OH, ALPHYS. YOU CAN HELP TOO! …DON’T SAY THAT, SANS CAN’T HAVE FALLEN DOWN, NO! PLEASE… PLEASE, ALPHYS, HE CAN’T GIVE UP.

You cannot give up just yet! asgore says. Stay determined!

but he is giving up, he gave up a long time ago. and he. doesn’t. care.

 

 

 

13.

 

he’s being carried, has been carried, he’s on a soft surface in somewhere else. he doesn’t know or care. there was a point where he was still, where the world was shaking underneath him and his head was on a bony lap, maybe. he doesn’t think about it. he doesn’t think.

I-I think th-there’s, there might be… But i-it’s dangerous, Papyrus, if, if I mess the dose up just a little h-he, S-S-Sans will… He’ll d-die, Papyrus!

HE ALREADY IS DYING, ALPHYS. PLEASE, DO WHATEVER YOU HAVE TO. I TRUST YOU AND I NEED HIM.

someone sobs. it might be two people.

U-U-Undyne, I’m, I’m going t-to need the s-sa-safe. The safe opening. P-please be gentle with it.

Are you KIDDING? How can I be GENTLE when Sans is DYING?

Please, Undyne! I… I never wanted to open tha-that safe again, I f-forgot the code. I-it’s dangerous, Undyne, and highly rare!

Ugh! Okay, Alphys, but only ‘cause I love you! NGAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

sans zones out again. drifting, sand, sand going into the sea, wiping away footprints over and over, he’s never seen the sea.

he’s never seen the sea, and he doesn’t. he won’t. it’s… it’s okay. he’s seen stars, real stars, he’s seen his brother smile, but all of that’s so distant.

no more resets.

and it doesn’t matter, it’s never mattered, not in the long run, because one day frisk will die and he will die and papyrus will die and toriel probably won’t die but either way the sun, that huge star they all love, they all depend on, it’s gonna explode and take as much as it can down with it, and then nobody will remember anything. the world will be erased, it will have been, and will never be again. or maybe it will. it’s just a cycle of cosmic stupidity anyway, what’s the point? was there ever a point? was it all a joke, all along?

WHO CARES?

i care, pap. we… first, we need to get you out of bed. c’mon, bro, just sit up.

WHY? IT’S NOT WORTH IT ANYWAY.

who cares? who cares? who cares?

he doesn’t.

 

 

 

14.

 

determination, huh?

sans sits up in bed, rubbing a hand over his skull. he sees his brother sitting in a chair at the end of the bed in the clean sterile room, he says something like hey pap. and pap says something like SANS? YOU’RE OKAY? and sans won’t remember anything except for who cares who cares WHO CARES, IT’S NOT WORTH IT ANYWAY.

and sans won’t be concerned, because he doesn’t really care as much anymore, and he shrugs, should i not be?

and alphys comes in at some point, Fallen down, she says, and he vaguely understands that as something bad but good.

she pulls him into a fight, reading his stats and writing something down.

T-the good news is, is that you’re no longer at zero point zero one!

of what?

Your HP, your h-hope, Sans. Y-you almost ran out!

huh. because there’s not much more to say on the matter. hit me with the bad news, them.

D-did… Did I ever tell you ab-about… About the amalgamates?

 

 

 

15.

 

he starts melting exactly a week after he fell down. huh, it feels kind of weird. he fell down. he lost hope. anyway, he takes the time before melting to hang around at grillbys, gorge himself on ketchup and burgers and fries, he hangs out with frisk and toriel and the other guys. tells bad puns, laughs about them, goes home and sleeps.

one time, papyrus asks him to read a bedtime story, and then to not leave his room, so sans crawls under the sheets to cuddle up with his bro, like they’re both kids. were they ever not kids? were they ever grownups, or just playing pretend? and it’s warm under the sheets, and it’s kind of awkward with papyrus’s giant limbs, but they manage to curl up against each other like children afraid of the dark.

and they sleep, until sans has a nightmare and papyrus wakes up screaming, they scream together, sans flickers through various places until he finds alphys and undyne sleeping next to each other on a sky-blue bed that is grey in the dark, and he screams, and he screams, and they scream, and everything hurts. alphys is breathing far too quickly, undyne is staring at her girlfriend and best friend in horror and panic as sans and papyrus try to rip themselves apart.

i’m sorry I’M SORRY i’m sorry I’M SORRY i’m sorry UNDYNE, ALPHYS, HELP, I’M SORRY, There’s n-nothing we can do, I-I’m sorry Sans, I’m sorry Papyrus, I’m, I’m s-so sorry! please don’t blame yourself, it was my fault MY FAULT, I PRESSURED YOU INTO i wanted to go home, it wasn’t the best course of action SAYING GOODBYE, I’M SCARED, PLEASE, HELP, IT HURTS why doesn’t it hurt? i thought it was supposed to hurt PLEASE, MAKE IT STOP i’m sorry, pap, it’s me, it’s all me, i’m sorry I’M SORRY I’M sorry

quiet.

 

 

 

16.

 

they don’t leave the lab, that sterile room where sans remembers being taken down to when he was almost gone, almost dead, where he woke up, that clean place filled with chemicals and gases. they aren’t who they were, sans thinks. I’M SCARED, papyrus thinks. SANS, WHY ARE THOSE THOUGHTS THERE?

sans tries to cover up the guilt and self-loathing that lurks in the back of his mind, tries to cover it with his normal thoughts of apostrophe dogs and how cool papyrus is and everything he loves.

SANS, please stop lying.

sometimes alphys comes down with food that undyne helped make. usually it’s spaghetti, just as awful as papyrus’s has always been, but when the thought occurs to them, they lose their appetite. undyne is, however, excellent at making hot dogs. they taste of guilt and love and despair, but it’s some kind of nutrition.

they, he, they’re really gloopy now. LIKE GLUE OR MUD. IT LEAVES A TRAIL EVERYWHERE. IT’S DISGUSTING.

sorry, pap, that’s my fault. NO IT’S NOT, SANS, DON’T BLAME YOURSELF. YOU’RE GOOD AND NICE AND IMPORTANT EVEN THOUGH YOU’RE REALLY LAZY AND SAD ALL THE TIME, i’m so sorry, I DIDN’T MEAN THAT IN A BAD WAY, I JUST WISH YOU COULD BE HAPPY. ONLY NOW, YOU’RE STUCK WITH ME. and you don’t want to be stuck with me.

I NEVER SAID THAT.

you didn’t have to.

 

 

 

17.

 

please separate us, sans begs alphys the next time she comes down.

alphys wrings her hands together after she lays the hotdog plate on the floor. B-but Sans, I, I’ve never been able to do it before. I’ll try, but, I mean, uh, d-don’t get your hopes up.

IT’S OKAY! I BELIEVE IN YOU! papyrus’s voice is distorted, gurgling,  and sans supposes his is as well.

T-thanks, Papyrus.

there’s a pause, where everything is still, sans wanting to eat but not having the energy to and papyrus not wanting to eat but having the energy to. it was kind of annoying, to be honest, but all papyrus gets is the feeling of papyrus, the feeling of utter adoration, and irritation. sans’s non-existent gut curls in on itself sickeningly.

Are… Are you s-sure, though?

yYES

 

 

 

18.

 

they don’t move that often.

sans is seeping into papyrus, he knows that. he knows it in the way that papyrus makes bad jokes more easily, in the way sans always does. he sees papyrus’s soul and can see everything, the layers of GREAT, GOOD, PATHETIC, trying so hard to connect all of this new knowledge together.

and papyrus, he knows that he is seeing more and more, seeing the confusing dreamlike reminders of a world that never existed, of a soul shattering under a bridge, of sitting in the throne room as sans watches, I’M SORRY, I’M A FRAUD, I’M THE WORST KING EVER. I MAKE YOU DO EVERYTHING, AND I JUST SIT AROUND BEING USELESS, of frisk, smiling, why are they smiling?

Hello, Sans and Papyrus

please load, frisk, RESET, load, PLEASE, HELP HIM.

I’m sorry. I’m scared. I’ve tried over and over again to save you both, and I never can.

what do you MEAN? just reset if you’ve messed up that badly

No! Haven’t you seen my parents? Haven’t you seen everyone else? They’re happy, Sans! I… I can’t put them through that again.

and isn’t that just like all of them? frisk, putting the needs of the many over the needs of their friends, papyrus, the unmissed, and sans, sans has messed up somewhere, he’s messed up so many times and he doesn’t understand which was is up and down and why he cannot breathe, why he is so desperate to die, why it’s slowly becoming overwhelming.

SANS, STOP IT, PLEASE! IT HURTS, SANS

Sans! Please? Please stop

SANS, I CAN’T FEEL ANYTHING, PLEASE

What are you doing? Are you

Um, i-is everything… Oh my God

SANS!

 

 

 

19.

 

he trudges through the snow, letting his feet drag until his slippers fall off, remaining in a snowdrift. he can’t be bothered to put them back on, so he continues shuffling along, barefoot, his phalanxes numb and kind of damp.

there’s a long rock formation that papyrus painted over to look like wood, that he added rope to to make it more secure. sans remembers sitting to the side, drinking a bottle of ketchup and making sure that his brother didn’t fall off.

he takes a step onto it, barely feeling his foot touching the stone. another step, feeling as though he isn’t in his body, as though everything around him would ripple and dissipate if he touched it. another cautious step, feeling as though he is in a dream. another, another, another,

 

 

 

19.

 

another, another, another,

 

 

 

19.

 

another, another, another,

 

 

 

19.

 

another, another, another,

 

 

 

19.

 

his soul shatters before it hits the ground

 

 

 

19.

 

another, another, another,

 

 

 

19.

 

another, another, another,

 

 

 

20.

 

SANS, ARE YOU OKAY?

 

no.

 

DO YOU WANT ME TO HELP YOU?

 

yes.

**Author's Note:**

> the title's from a sadness runs through him by the hoosiers, which is kind of a sansish song
> 
> i was trying to get a feel for the undertale characters in this fic. ah. probably shouldn't have focused so much on sans, but what can i say. i am also a depressed skeleton. i could have been a dinosaur but i'm not cool enough to be alphys, sorry. either way, she's there being alphysy
> 
> um, please tell me if i screwed up anything or if you liked it, it makes me happy. i mean, not screwing things up, but if i make things that people like, it's kind of a big boost to me, being my only purpose in life and all. uh. thanks anyway. if there are any content warnings missing in the tags, please tell me and i will fix them


End file.
